Steadier Footing
by four51
Summary: TR: I noticed she put her book away. That's all I needed. I sat next to her.  What's going on in Tristan's mind at his 5 year reunion. Oneshot.


**Steadier Footing** by four51

And there she was, sitting at the end of the bar, chatting with Madeline like they were old friends. Her hair is longer, her face more beautiful, her eyes deeper. How I would love to –

"Tristan! My man! Haven't seen you for six years! What's up, man?!" a drunk friend from Chilton screamed at me.

"I'm, uh, I'm fine. Excuse me."

I spent the next ten minutes staring at her, just like many times back in high school. She's so beautiful, poised, charming, compassionate, calm.

I am going to go up to her. I am going to tell her how much I've thought about her. How much I want to apologize for my actions and words so many years back.

I am going to go to her. Just as soon as my feet start moving.

This shouldn't be so hard. It's just a girl. Any other woman and I would be quick to act.

Who am I kidding? This isn't just some girl. This is Rory Gilmore. The object of my, dare I say it and lose all masculinity, daydreams. The person clogging my thoughts for the past seven years.

She is the woman I am in love with.

"Tristan?" a feminine voice cooed behind me.

"Angela, darling," I flirted back. "It's been too long."

"I agree. You haven't called me like you promised junior year. An offense that takes a lot of sucking up to make up for." I knew of her double meaning.

"Well, I don't do much apologizing these days." To you. "So, I must be going."

I turned around and started walking toward the bar, building momentum to meet up with her.

But she was gone.

Where had she disappeared to?

Where had she _gone_?

And then I saw Maddie talking to Greg Bowman, a man I wished never to see again. I went over there anyway.

"Did I tell you of my invention?" I heard him ask her. "I'm going to be filthy rich by the _ten _year reunion."

"Oh…" I could tell she needed an out.

"Madeline? Is that you?" I shouted far enough to make her move to me.

"Thank god. See ya later, Bowman." She walked to me. "I owe you _huge_, Tris. How've you been?!" She gave me a warm hug.

"I've been, you know, living. I actually had a question."

"Yeah?"

"I saw you talking to Rory Gilmore, and I was just wondering where she went…?" Great, jackass, let the whole world know of your crush.

She smiled, almost like she knew my intentions. But then she frowned. "She said she was getting ready to go. That's what I figured she was doing: leaving."

My shoulders sunk. My mind stopped. My hopes dropped.

"Oh… Thanks anyway." I turned to go to the men's room to splash cold water on my face.

"But she gave me her number… if that'll help…?"

I smiled a little. "Yeah? It wouldn't be too much trouble to give it to me?"

"Not at all. Here," she picked up a napkin on a nearby table and grabbed a pen from her purse. She copied the number from her hand onto the napkin. "That's it. Of course, the Hartford area code."

"Of course. Thank you so much, Madeline."

She nodded and went to talk to some fellow classmates.

Rory had left.

And I spent the rest of the night sulking, barely talking to the other people I spent two and a half years of my life with.

It was eleven when I finally looked around and saw most of the people sifted out. I would say about forty people were left. I drowned the last swallow of my drink – non-alcoholic.

I didn't want to get drunk; I had work in the morning.

I got out of the chair and started walking toward the exit. I don't even know why I was looking around, but I do know that I am glad I did.

Because there she was, the woman of my dreams, sitting on the plush couch, reading a thick book.

I could hardly contain my excitement. I turned in her direction.

"Rory? Is that you?"

Great, jackass. Very clever.

Oh my god. She smiled at me.

Crap. What do I say now? Do I stay where I am?

No. I walked over to her.

"How've you been?" I asked.

What's wrong with me? I am an idiot, that's what. I just asked her the most-asked question of the night.

"I've been – I've been great. How about you, Tristan?"

I started breathing a little slower. "I've been really good."

She nodded. I noticed she had put her book away. That's all I needed.

I sat next to her.

"What have you been doing all these years? You look great. Military school went well, eh?"

I smiled. She's flirting. "Yeah, you know. Made me better looking – if that's even possible."

She laughed. A no-barriers-all-out laugh. My god, she's beautiful.

"You haven't changed a bit," she told me.

"Same ol' handsome self. It's a gift," I paused, "or a curse," I said mysteriously with an eyebrow-wiggle.

A moment passed.

"So, have you lived out your dream?" I asked. "Are you a journalist?"

"Yeah. For the New York Times. But right now, I'm on vacation. Visiting my mom."

Another moment passed.

She smiled. "Are you working for your family business?"

"No. I am a writer. A novelist, actually."

"No way! What're your books? I don't think I've ever seen your name…?"

"Oh, I use a pseudonym," I assured her.

"Oh…" she muttered. "What is it?" she asked, hesitantly.

"The whole reason for a penname is that no one knows it's you," I teased.

She laughed again. Her teeth showed through. "Please? I would love to read it."

I paused, mockingly sizing her up. "Okay. But for you only. A secret."

She leaned in close. I could smell her perfume. I'd know it a mile away.

Cool Water. Davidoff. My favorite scent since high school. She wore it almost every day.

Her eyes were full of curiosity.

"Oliver," I told her. "James Oliver."

"Are you kidding? _A Shadow's Edge_?"

"So you have read me."

My stomache was about to burst with nerves. She hated it, I know it. She hated me and she's going to politely excuse herself from this conversation right –

"It's definitely among one of my favorite contemporary books." She paused, looking around. "I'm sorry, I still can't believe that's you. It's absolutely wonderful. I am so proud of you, Tristan."

I blushed sheepishly.

This was my chance.

I'm going to tell her.

I'm going to tell her.

I'm going to tell her how my whole mind revolves around her. How I committed to memory her voice, her look, the texture of her hair, the moisture of her lips…

I'm going to tell her.

Just as soon as my tongue starts moving.

This is my chance.

God dammit. She is looking at me, questioningly. Expectantly.

Come on, speak!

"Tristan!" I heard someone scream out. I looked up. A man I haven't talked to since eleventh grade was waving good-bye to me. I waved uncomfortably.

He ruined the moment.

I was going to tell her.

"A friend of yours?" She asked.

"Not really."

"Isn't that weird? It's like we get here, and we expect everything to be the same. All the same cliques to form again. All the same couples to arrive together…"

"Yeah. What's funny is that there are only a few people here that I ever want to see again. I have better friends at home."

"North Carolina?"

"New York, actually."

I saw her eyes twinkle. My stomach turned. "Do you think you'll think the same about them ten years from now? Or do you think it'll be like that guy that just left?"

Her voice was quiet.

"I think things will happen. We all grow up. The relationships that do keep in tact, I'll be glad for."

She nodded.

"How about you?" I asked.

"I'm still friends with most of my high school friends. The ones I've met in college are the ones that have fallen through."

I nodded, silently, sulking.

A long, uncomfortable moment passed.

"Well," she started. "I better go."

She got up.

I got up, by default. "Right."

"Hopefully it won't be six years before we see each other next." She turned and walked to the exit.

There it was.

There was the invitation.

She had invited me into her world.

Into her life.

I was invited into her life.

It was my chance to tell her that I –

She was out the door.

Crap!

She's leaving. She's really leaving!

And here's where my feet decided to work.

I went outside, hoping to God that I could catch her.

I ran around the parking lot, checking car after car, getting disappointed after each one.

And then I heard someone swear a few cars down.

I could hardly breathe. There she was. Fumbling in her purse for what I assumed were her keys. Three steps away.

Two steps.

"Tristan?" she asked, when she saw me.

One step.

I kissed her.

A long, passionate kiss, with every sense of feeling I have experienced since I met her. With every amount of love I have for her.

When I pulled away, I was prepared for anything.

Hell, I didn't even put it past her to run away, even if we were standing by her car.

But she did a thing that will always surprise me.

She smiled.

And that's when I asked.

"Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?"

"I would love to," she whispered.

Thank god.

I smiled a big, toothy smile.

A/N: Just something that came to my mind when I was listening to Death Cab for Cutie's _Steadier Footing_. Such a cute song, yeah? I just wanted a good ending. So yeah. One shot, I believe. Review, please.


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